


How to Score a Penalty

by caesiumlight



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Football | Soccer, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-31 22:16:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13984452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caesiumlight/pseuds/caesiumlight
Summary: “I thought you were supposed to stop the seventy mile per hour killing projectile with your hands,” Mark continues, eyes narrowed, “not your face.”Or, the one in which Taeyong recruits Lucas—the guy who doesn't play any football—to be their goalkeeper.





	How to Score a Penalty

Taeyong’s not in the habit of speaking to random strangers, but Jaehyun’s an awful influence. Plus, they’re getting desperate.

“Hold up.”

“What?” Taeyong follows Jaehyun’s hungry gaze to where a blonde-haired guy stands talking to Mark.

“ _He’s perfect_.”

“You’re not as subtle as you think,” Taeyong hisses. “Also, he’s tall, I’ll give him that, but we don’t even know if he’s into football.”

“Let’s go find out,” Jaehyun decides, giving him no opportunity to protest as he manhandles Taeyong to the unsuspecting target. Mark catches on and observes their approach with suspicious eyes. _I’m an unwilling party_ , Taeyong tries to communicate, but he doesn’t think Mark can read his flailing hands.

“Hyungs,” Mark says dryly. “What’s up?”

“Oh hi, Mark,” Jaehyun tries in his best Wiseau accent, coaxing a laugh from the target. Jaehyun perks up, and Taeyong can tell he likes the new guy already. “Just checking in. Who’s this?”

“Lucas,” new guy responds, extending a hand for them to shake. Taeyong can almost sense Jaehyun’s predatory instincts kick up a notch.

“I’ll cut to the chase,” Jaehyun announces. “We need a goalkeeper.”

Mark lets out a long suffering sigh. Jaehyun squints at him dangerously.

“Uh,” Lucas says, “I don’t play football.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jaehyun continues feverishly. “You have the dummy we place in goal by ten inches and proper hands and an actual pulse, so at this point, you’re our best bet. What do you say?”

Lucas blinks at them, prompting Jaehyun to elbow Taeyong.

“Please?” Taeyong blurts out. He has a job to do as captain, after all. “Nationals are a few months away, and we’ve had no luck with a replacement. It’s our final year and this means… a lot to us.”

Lucas eyes flick to him, then back to Mark, who’s making aborted jerking motions with his head. Jaehyun looks like he’s about to strangle the kid. But Lucas shifts his gaze back to Taeyong and beams suddenly, bright and sweet. “Sure, why not,” he says.

Jaehyun crows in triumph, launching forward and engulfing a surprised Lucas into a hug. Taeyong’s pulse thuds once, twice, before he grins back. “Welcome to the team, Lucas.”

 

\--

 

Trigonometry Tuesday is his least favourite day, but Taeyong finds it even harder to concentrate when he’s itching to get outside. They haven’t been able to practice with a full team in a while, and he’s excited for some progress. He heads to the field the moment the bell rings, and finds Jaehyun with Lucas, already changed. Approval flares in his chest.

“He asked for a tour,” Jaehyun says.

Lucas’ hand comes up to the back of his neck. “I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t play,” he shrugs sheepishly. “Any head start I can get would be helpful.”

“Don’t be nervous,” Taeyong says, hoping to reassure. “We appreciate you just being here.” Lucas cracks a smile when Jaehyun nods fervently. “Just try your best.”

The rest trickle in, and after a round of introductions, they set off for their warm-up run. Lucas chooses to jog next to him, near the back of the pack.

“I watched some games last night, to get an idea of what I’d gotten myself into.”

Taeyong’s curious. “Well? What did you think?”

“I like Messi,” Lucas concludes.

Johnny snorts, next to them. “Everybody likes Messi.”

Lucas thinks for a bit. “Casillas, too.”

“Saint Iker,” Johnny hums, impressed. “You’re gonna do well here, kid.”

“Stop scaring our new recruit Johnny, and try to keep up,” Jaehyun calls from the front. Lucas chuckles at Johnny’s indignant squawk as he puts on a burst of speed to catch Jaehyun.

“I heard Casillas’ hands are insured for ten thousand dollars,” Lucas continues. Taeyong’s pleased with how smooth he’s speaking even while running, as if he’s not at all out of breath. It’s a good sign. Then he breaks into laughter when he realizes the Mean Girls reference nearly flew right over his head.

“Nice,” Taeyong says, and Lucas grins cheekily. It’s unfairly endearing. “They’re insured for ten million, actually.”

Lucas’ jaw drops. He stretches out his hands, observing them in awe, before turning back to Taeyong with a wink. “Maybe there’s something to this goalkeeper business, after all.”

 

\--

 

“How’s the club?” Mark questions him when they meet for prefect duties. Gardening, really? Taeyong spent the whole last semester taking care of a single clover plant, then went away for the summer, then came back to find the plant still healthy and hale after two months of absolutely no water. He’d realized then he’d been watering a fake plant the entire time. Mark on the other hand, seems perfectly comfortable with the assortment of shovels and picks the school has kindly provided for their free labour, and Taeyong should probably tread carefully when he’s got a sizeable number of pointy objects at his disposal.

"Great,” he answers vaguely, struggling with a stray weed. “The team’s doing well.”

“Hm,” Mark says, and Taeyong’s not quite sure how that mono-syllabic response instantly winds a thread of apprehension around him.

“Mark,” he wheedles, because now he needs to know, “what’s up?”

Mark whips around and glares at him. “What happened to Lucas?”

Oh, Taeyong winces. _That_. An unfortunate accident, in which an overenthusiastic Chen Le had whipped the ball into the net and somehow found the side of Lucas’ head. The younger boy had spent the rest of training apologizing frantically to their goalkeeper, who had assured them all he was fine, but Taeyong could see the beginnings of what would be a monstrous bruise.

“I thought you were supposed to stop the seventy mile per hour killing projectile with your hands,” Mark continues, eyes narrowed, “not your face.”

Taeyong hasn’t seen Lucas since the accident yesterday. He feels terrible; he should’ve checked. “How does he look?”

“Like he has a mini football growing out the side of his face?”

Taeyong’s grip on his tools tightens. The guilt settles like lead in his stomach. “I should’ve checked,” he says, angry at himself now. “That was irresponsible of me.”

“Hyung,” Mark sighs, softening his tone, “I know it wasn’t your fault. Just, look out for him, okay? He’s just transferred, he’s new, he’s so eager to please and willing to push himself beyond his limits.”

“Yeah,” Taeyong says. He can see that. Lucas has a smile on his face every second of training that Ten’s taken to calling him their Happy Virus. He goes through what must be unfamiliar drills to him without a single complaint, and tries doubly hard to keep up with the rest of the team. Taeyong’s not stopped to consider how hard it must be for him.

“Take care of him, alright?”

“I will,” Taeyong promises, determined now.

He calls Lucas the moment they’re done, after sending Mark home with a ruffle of his hair. “Hyung,” Lucas chimes, and Taeyong can’t help but smile. “What’s up?”

“How’re you doing?” he asks. “How’s your face?”

“Oh, fine, it’s fine,” Lucas says breezily.

“Lucas,” he presses. “You sure?”

There’s a pause. “It hurts a little,” he admits.

“Ice it, alright? I know that’s gonna be a pain but it’ll help keep the swelling down.”

“Okay.”

Taeyong exhales, struggling to find the right words. “Lucas, you’ll tell me if I’m pushing you too hard, right?”

“What?” Lucas sounds confused. “No, no hyung, this is nothing, really! It’ll be gone by the end of this week.”

“But you’ll tell me, right?”

Lucas is quiet again, before, “Yeah, okay.”

“Good.”

“Thanks for checking on me, hyung.” There’s a mixture of gratefulness and something else Taeyong can’t pinpoint in his voice. “You’re, I mean, that’s, really nice. Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Taeyong says, and wonders a little at the sudden surge of affection he feels.

 

\--

 

People think being a goalkeeper is easy, and they couldn't be more wrong. For one, you have to subdue all your natural instincts and dive in front of, not away from, a moving object that's more than capable of doing its fair share of damage to you. Then there's the reflexes. The ability to read your opponent, which way they're gonna go, which side they prefer. There's the strategizing, knowing how to use your teammates to build the most effective defense wall around you.

Goalies have a lot to think about.

Lucas is getting more adept at being in goal, but he's still missing key shots by a breadth. The team's encouraging, but Taeyong can see each miss take a strain on him, especially now that he's looking. He finds Lucas sitting dejectedly by the edge of the field after training one day, staring into space.

"Hey," he says softly. "It takes years to get the hang of it. We kind of pulled you out from nowhere and asked you to do the impossible."

Lucas sighs. "It's difficult."

"Damn right." Taeyong flops down on the grass. The evening air is cool and crisp on his sticky skin. He understands, training can leave him raw on the inside too. He'll wonder, can I ever go professional? Be the next Ronaldo, the next Messi? "I couldn't do it even if I tried."

"Liar," Lucas quirks his mouth up, watching him. "You could do anything."

There's a flutter in his chest from that compliment, and Taeyong can't keep himself from feeling absurdly pleased. He wants to make Lucas feel the same way. "You're doing well," he says earnestly. "Don't be so hard on yourself."

"It's just," Lucas says, frustrated, "I know how much making it to nationals means to you."

Taeyong jerks up. "I don't want you doing this because you feel like you owe it to me, Lucas. Tell me honestly, do you like being here?"

Lucas turns away from him, gazing out at the field. Taeyong's nervous, dreading the answer. He shouldn't be selfish, he shouldn't make him stay if he hates it here. But Lucas turns back to him with a tiny smile. "I do. I like the team," he looks meaningful at Taeyong, "and I like playing. I want to get better."

"Cool," Taeyong says, feeling a million times lighter. He reaches out for the nearest ball, and gets to his feet. "Shall we?"

 

\--

 

This is their first friendly in a while, considering they’ve been out of a goalkeeper for weeks. It’s with the neighbouring school three blocks down, with whom they’ve played together so many times that Taeyong can match their names to their jersey numbers. But it’s Lucas’ first match, and he’s radiating tension so palpable that it looks like his entire body’s drooping with it.

“Friendly Friday,” Jaehyun hums, as the entire team traipses to One High’s field, completely oblivious to Lucas’ mental state. “We’re gonna kick this shit.”

“Oh my god,” Lucas whispers, horrified. “I’m not gonna be able to catch anything.”

“Hey,” Taeyong nudges him gently. “Just try your best.” He gestures to the rest of the team. “Our job is to keep the ball away from you such that you don’t even have to catch anything.”

Jaehyun picks up his cue. “And we’re really good at our job.”

Lucas quirks a hesitant half-smile.

“But,” Jaehyun continues, “it’d be nice if you caught the things we missed.”

Taeyong glares at him, but Lucas lets out a short laugh, the tension bleeding out from his shoulders. “I’ll try my best.”

One’s captain greets them with a wave and a gesture that says _you guys already know where the changing rooms are_. Taeyong ushers Lucas in while Johnny and Ten catch up with Daniel. It’s funny how being in a uniform changes a lot of things. Lucas steps out, and it strikes Taeyong suddenly what an imposing figure he cuts.

Jisung lets out a low whistle. “New guy, huh?”

“If you’re trying to intimidate me, you’re doing a good job,” Daniel adds, impressed. “Goalie?”

“You bet,” Ten grins. “This is Lucas.”

One’s members fan around him, introducing themselves excitedly, and Taeyong’s relieved that Lucas’ first match gets to be a welcoming, good-natured one. Lucas seems unsure of what to do with all the attention, his hands fluttering at his sides, but there’s a smile on his face that’s brighter than the sun.

“Quit staring, Leader,” Jaehyun smirks.

“What?”

“I mean, get your head in the game.”

Taeyong rolls his eyes, long used to Jaehyun’s cryptic comments and waggling eyebrows. He doesn’t need to be told. Friendly match or no, everything clears when he steps on the pitch. All he knows is the ball, and the sound it makes when it hits the back of the net. They line up, shake hands, and the whistle blows.

 

\--

 

“We’re going out!” Johnny whoops, trying unsuccessfully to hoist Lucas on his shoulders. The two collapse in a tangle of long limbs, which only makes Yuta laugh even more hysterically.

“Lucas, the man!” Jungwoo hollers. The team chorus their agreement, and Taeyong sees the flush build on Lucas. The red of their jersey suits him. The red in his cheeks suits him as well.

They pile into the nearest pizza joint and Taeyong swears he sees their server wilt at the sight of a team of rambunctious boys. “We’ll need like, eight large pizzas, at least,” Jaehyun declares, and rattles off their order amidst cries off _I don’t like pineapple on my pizza_ and _what is wrong with you, really?_ Lucas sits quietly in the corner of the booth, looking slightly dazed.

“Hey,” Taeyong says, shifting a little closer so that he can be heard. “Everything okay?”

Lucas turns to him, and while he looks physically tired, there’s a glint in his eyes. “Yeah. Just happy, hyung.”

“You did good today.”

Lucas gives him a shy smile. “You know, the first one I saved was a fluke. I just happened to flail my arms out at the right angle and knock the ball away.”

“I’ve lost count of the number of goals de Gea’s saved for United, just by flailing his arms out at the right angle. He’s one of the best. But he looks like he’s imitating a starfish, sometimes.”

Lucas lets out a small laugh. The sound rings in Taeyong’s ears even with the ruckus around them. “Thanks hyung. You’re always… encouraging me.” He reaches forward, almost hesitantly, and squeezes Taeyong’s hand. “It means a lot.”

Lucas holds his gaze, determined but patient. It’s like a timer’s been set. Something feels significant about this instant. A weighing of scales: the things he currently holds dear against something new. He wonders which one will win out. He’s not sure how to act, or what to say to this bright, beautiful boy, and perhaps he’s let the moment stretch too long; their orders arrive, and Lucas withdraws his hand.

 

\--

 

Training goes well, and a couple more matches bolster Lucas’ confidence even further. Taeyong watches him grow to fill up the space in goal. He yells encouragement from the other side of the pitch when they’re off with the ball, and bounces up and down with glee whenever they score. It always looks like he’s excited even when play is far from him, twitching with energy and anticipation.

“Manuel Neuer,” Jaehyun says to Lucas when they’re having lunch before training.

“Who?”

“Bayern Munich’s goalkeeper,” Sicheng explains.

“Yeah, you remind me of him,” Jaehyun chuckles. “It always looks like he wants to play instead of being stuck between two posts. He’s running out of goal to get the ball half the time. I bet it drives his coach nuts.”

“He took a penalty once,” Taeyong says.

Lucas’ eyes pop. “A goalie can take a penalty?”

“Yeah, nothing in the rules against that. But.”

“But?”

Taeyong smirks. “It would have been really embarrassing if he missed.”

Lucas’ expression turns thoughtful. “But he didn’t?”

“He didn’t.” Taeyong remembers the first time he saw the penalty shoot-out, how his jaw had dropped when Neuer stepped up to the ball. What arrogance, what foolhardiness, since when does a goalie have a higher chance of scoring than the other players? Why waste one of your precious chances?

And then Neuer had scored.

 _Goddamn_ , he remembers thinking dazedly. _God frigging damn._

Tiki-Taka Thursday has them working on short passes and movement, continuously passing the ball back and forth. Lucas looks lost in his thoughts, even though he’s passing fluidly, and Taeyong wonders if he’s unlocked something. It’s funny how the Universe works sometimes.

It rears up in one of their friendlies. They end in a tie, and get called to a shoot-out. Ten takes the first one and scores. The opponent’s ball slips past Lucas.

“Don’t mind,” Yuta shouts from the sidelines. “Keep your focus!”

Jaehyun takes the second one and is stopped by the opponent’s goalie. Lucas saves the second one. They’re still tied. Jungwoo scores. The opponent scores. Still tied. Sicheng scores, the opponent misses. Good. They miss, the opponent scores, back to square one.

“This is killing me,” Jaehyun mutters. “Go get em’, cap.”

It feels like a ton of relief when Taeyong sees his ball soar into the top right hand corner of the goal. Now if only their opponent would miss.

But they don’t. It’s now sudden death. The referee blows his whistle, and it’s their turn again.

“Hyung,” Lucas cuts through the haze of tension with a clear, steady voice. “Can I take this?”

Taeyong blinks, uncomprehending. Then familiar thoughts take over: this is stupid, this will cost us the game, no, no, no—

“I can do it,” Lucas says. “Do you trust me?”

Taeyong stops, gazing at him. The striking figure he cuts, the eager yet settled air about him. Watching Lucas train, being with him, it’s like a plant being fed sunlight, and he realizes the answer’s quite simple.

Jaehyun’s eyebrows are raised, but there’s a hint of a smile playing about his lips when Lucas steps up to the ball. Taeyong doesn’t think he can breathe. He watches Lucas bounce between his feet, left right left right left right, and then quick as a dart, he shifts his body weight to one side, feinting, before stepping out to the right and delivering a strike with his left boot, sliding the ball past the keeper’s dive by a fraction.

It happens so fast. Lucas steps back into goal, switching from scorer to keeper. And he saves the opponent's ball. Double whammy.

Taeyong’s chest expands, and he sucks in a lung of blessed air. His body moves on its own accord and he runs up to Lucas, who’s standing unmoving as if he can’t believe what he just did. Their team converges around Lucas, on top of him, jumping and screaming themselves silly. “ _What in god’s name_ ,” Johnny is yelling. “What in god’s name was that, Lucas, you fantastic son of a—”

“Neuer 2.0!” Chen Le crows. “The best goalie in the world!”

They have their arms around each other, they’re yelling god knows what, still jumping, and it feels fucking incredible. The air is electric, Taeyong doesn’t think he’s ever been this hyped in a friendly before. Amidst their team huddle, Lucas finds Taeyong, framing his face with his large hands.

“Thank you,” he breathes. His eyes are wide and earnest. “Hyung, thank you for believing, for giving me this.”

It’s clumsy and quick, the kiss he presses into Taeyong’s cheek. The commotion fades for that one, careful moment. And then Lucas is jostled away from him.

 

\--

 

They have two weeks of midterms, and then playoff season starts. It sucks, but at least they won’t have exams to worry about midway. Taeyong’s strict about limiting official practice during the two weeks to ensure they all get time off to study, because he knows the members would happily give up their books to run around the field for hours. But they each sneak in their own training time, sometimes early in the morning just before class, or even for fifteen minutes during lunch break.

Midterm Monday, Doyoung calls it, the day they all shuffle in with expectations and anxiety bunched up around their shoulders. Taeyong’s slightly nervous, but he’s been keeping up with his work for the most part. Doyoung’s been helping him with his weaker subjects, and he’s been consistent with his study sessions. Sometimes the first paper you take seems to set the standard for each subsequent one, so it’s a relief he comes out of chemistry feeling pretty confident.

History is just a matter of shoving facts down your throat and regurgitating them at the right time, so when school ends for the day, Taeyong stays behind to get more studying done. The year of Independence, the year of World War II, the year of the Glorious Revolution—pretty soon, the numbers start to blend in his head.

He needs a break.

Jaehyun leaves his football behind in class, so Taeyong scoops it up and heads to the field. It’s dark out already. There're scattered lights from classrooms here and there, probably from other students cramming as well, but the corridors are deserted. Taeyong likes the feeling of being alone in school, carving a mental space out in what otherwise is the busiest, most hectic presence in his life.

He’s surprised to hear laughter emanating from the field.

“You have a wondrous lack of coordination,” comes Lucas’ unmistakable deep voice, threaded with amusement. “I could leave the goal empty and you still wouldn’t score.”

“Oh, try me.” Taeyong approaches in time to see Mark jogging on the spot behind the ball, preparing to shoot. “If I get this in, you owe me dinner.”

“Good god no, I’m tired of fried chicken,” Lucas gasps, and runs forward to sabotage the shot. Mark tries to dribble the ball away from Lucas’ incoming feet, but it’s too dim, probably, and they end up tripping over one another and landing in a pile.

“Foul,” Mark cries out, smacking Lucas on his shoulder. “Get off me, you giant—wait, that’s what they call it, right? Foul?”

Lucas is laughing too hard to answer, or to move off of Mark. Taeyong almost flinches away from the picture. There’s nothing wrong with it, they’re probably here for the same reason as him, to de-stress and get studying off their minds, but seeing them like this makes his gut clench. He has a sneaking suspicion why, but he can’t afford anymore distraction as it is, so he packages his stray thoughts away.

“What are you guys still doing here?”

“Taeyong hyung!” Lucas looks up, grinning. Always that bright, beautiful smile. “What’s up!”

“We were just playing,” Mark says, sitting up. Taeyong shudders at the irrational surge of anger he feels. He’s got no right to yell at them over this.

He exhales slowly, trying to keep his emotions in check. “It’s late, you guys should head back soon.”

Something in his voice must give him away. “Hyung?” Lucas calls, concerned. “Everything alright?”

“No, I’ve forgotten the year of the War,” Taeyong responds tightly. He turns away before he can lose his temper. “Later.”

 

\--

 

For once, Taeyong’s glad they don’t have set practice. He’s also infinitely grateful the school has relieved them of their prefect duties during this time, so he doesn’t have to attend Weeding Wednesday with Mark. Don’t get side-tracked, Taeyong reminds himself. The scale needs to tip in the direction of the more important things.

He avoids the field, and barely sees Lucas over the next few days. When he does, in the school corridors in between classes, it’s with dozens of other students hurrying to get to their next lessons. Chaotic, unlike the night time. Taeyong is almost thankful. He spares a cursory wave, and pretends not to see Lucas’ hurt reaction when he steps around him.

“What’s wrong,” Doyoung questions one time when they’re cramming, “you look awful.”

Taeyong only hunkers down over his books, and stares at the words and figures until his eyes hurt. The important things always seem to hurt.

Midterms pass in a blur. He thinks he’s done pretty well. Taeyong should be happy, but all he feels is an unsatisfactory flatness. Also, a nagging worry now that training is going to start up again.

He can’t quite match his members’ excitement levels when they meet back on the pitch. And when they partner up for stretching, Taeyong shifts quickly away from Lucas’ gaze and pulls Jaehyun to him.

“Hm,” Jaehyun says.

Taeyong wants to groan. That mono-syllabic word always gets to him. “What?”

“Something happened between you two?”

There’s no point in pretending not to know who Jaehyun’s referring to. “It’s nothing,” Taeyong insists.

“If you say so,” Jaehyun sighs, and pushes Taeyong down until his hamstrings scream.

They start off with some light drills, weaving the ball around set up cones. It's clear what they're all waiting for however. “Game?” Johnny suggests. “Time for some real shit.”

They split into two, but keep Lucas as goalie for both sides, and use half the pitch. Each team has to get the ball around a cone on one side of the field before they can attempt to score.

It takes a few minutes, but Taeyong eases back into the game with delight. He’s missed this. He keeps his feet light as he feints, and dribbles the ball out of Jungwoo’s reach. Chen Le hooks it away from his feet, passing it to Ten. Johnny performs a well-timed tackle, and Sicheng gains possession, manoeuvring the ball around the cone. He gets ready to score.

Lucas saves it.

“My man,” Ten calls.

Taeyong tampers down the flare of something ugly he doesn’t want to name in his chest. Lucas tosses the ball back on pitch, and Jaehyun takes it. Yuta crosses him, and moves the ball around the cone. He passes to Taeyong.

He takes the ball, and applies a burst of speed to brush past the defenders and put him in range. And then he sends the ball toward the net.

Lucas reacts fast, sticking an arm out, but the ball glances off his gloved hand and spins into the net. “Nice shot,” Yuta says from behind, but Taeyong’s close enough to hear the gasp Lucas emits. He wants to ask, but Lucas’ pinched expression smooths over in an instant, and he thinks he imagined it.

 

\--

 

It’s only after training, when everyone’s gone, that he finds Lucas clutching his right wrist. Concern overwhelms the misgivings from the previous weeks. “Hey,” Taeyong says, “you alright?”

A furrow appears on Lucas’ brow, but he looks up at Taeyong and smiles. “Fine, it’s fine.”

It’s the same tone he used over the phone the last time, when he tried to convince Taeyong the bruise on his face didn’t hurt. It stings to think that Lucas is back to hiding things from him. “Lucas,” he says firmly, “let me see.” He comes closer, ignoring Lucas’ wide eyes, and peels off his glove. When he wraps his hand around Lucas’ wrist, the hiss of pain is unmistakeable.

“Why didn’t you tell me then?” he exclaims, upset. “You could’ve made it worse!”

Lucas flinches. “I didn’t think you’d care,” he says, small.

Taeyong’s mouth falls open. It feels like he’s been slapped. _God_ , he’s been such an asshole. “I do,” he says, almost desperately. “Shit, I’m so sorry I made you think otherwise. I—I didn’t mean to.”

Lucas just shakes his head miserably. “It’s fine, hyung.”

No, not fine. He observes Lucas’ wrist. There’s no swelling, thank goodness, so it’s probably just a light sprain. A few days of rest and it should be fine. Still, it needs to be looked after, and Taeyong’s no stranger to dealing with that kind of injury. He grabs the first aid kit they keep in the locker room, and pulls out a bandage roll.

“You said I could tell you, right?” Lucas mumbles. They're sitting in the middle of the field with Taeyong wrapping his wrist. “If you were pushing me too hard?”

Taeyong’s gut sinks, the guilt multiplying tenfold. Has he been so focused on the playoffs he didn’t even realize Lucas wasn’t ready? He needs to apologize. “Lucas I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have forced you to play—”

“No, you don’t get it, hyung,” Lucas interrupts. He exhales frustratedly. “You’re pushing me away.”

Taeyong blinks.

“I don’t know what I did, was it the kiss?” Lucas flushes before looking away hurriedly. “I won’t do it again if you don’t want me to. It won’t happen again.” He tries to justify himself. “I was just caught up in the moment.”

A pang of disappointment strikes Taeyong. “Was it just a thing of the moment?” he asks.

Lucas looks surprised, then cornered. “No,” he admits meekly.

It feels like the timer's been reset, and Taeyong gets the chance to make things right. He braces himself because Lucas deserves honesty. “I thought it was, after I saw you and Mark that night. I got jealous, and I thought I’d got it wrong.”

“ _No_ ,” Lucas says fiercely, before clapping his free hand over his mouth, as if startled by his own boldness. “No,” he repeats again, softer. “You weren’t wrong.”

Oh. “Sorry,” he says, relief mixing with delight and affection, making him lightheaded. “I’ve been a bit of an idiot, haven’t I?”

“A little,” Lucas agrees. “It’s alright, Mark warned me beforehand.”

“I’m gonna get that kid.”

Lucas lets out a breath of laughter. He quiets, and leans in hesitantly. “May I?”

It’s like the scale settling in the right direction at last. There’s school and football and all the other things he needs to worry about, but he thinks his heart has room for more. It feels too big for his chest, after all. Taeyong nods, and Lucas kisses him gently, out there in the middle of the field, with the artificial grass scratching at their thighs.

When he pulls back, Lucas is back to his grinning self, albeit the lovely flush in his cheeks. Red really does suit him. “Playoffs are gonna be great.”

“Says the guy with the sprained wrist.”

“It’ll be fine,” Lucas says confidently. “Petr Cech’s left handed, too.”

“Cech 2.0,” Taeyong laughs. “Now there’s a goalie I’d want on my team.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Fun facts: Iker Casillas/the one they call Saint Iker/the goalkeeper I lose sleep over really has hands insured for millions. David de Gea has some of the most acrobatic, miraculous saves ever. Manuel Neuer scored a penalty in the Bayern Munich vs. Chelsea match. Petr Cech/class act/actual wall plays drums. And is frigging awesome.
> 
> 2\. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing about Midterm Mondays, Trigonometry Tuesdays, Weeding Wednesdays, Tiki-Taka Thursdays, and Friendly Fridays. It's been a while since I've dabbled with football in writing, but I'm happy with how this turned out. I'd appreciate knowing what you think!


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